


Mondays Suck

by susandragon01



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, derek sucks at words, i promise no one dies, mondays are horrible, sterek, stiles is just sad, there is cuddling, warning for suicide, well suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 22:30:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2042700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susandragon01/pseuds/susandragon01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is sad, so Derek comes to the rescue. Literally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mondays Suck

As hard as it was to believe, the average Monday never used to be a problem for Stiles, that was until he got involved in the supernatural. Yeah, Mondays sucked like hell – because really, who wanted to get up at 7 am for school after a tiring weekend? And, hello? Usually Stiles’ weekends consisted of life or death supernatural fights that he wasn’t allowed to take a part in, only watch because apparently no one thought he could look after himself.

It was just insulting.

So mainly Stiles’ Monday mornings consisted of waking up after a few hours’ sleep (if he was lucky) and having to put either make up on or bandages to hide whatever cuts and blemishes he had accumulated over the previous weekend.

The whole situation was exhausting. Mentally and physically.

Also, he was failing his classes.

 

Sometimes he wished he could just switch off. Take a break from everything for a few hours at least. If there wasn’t one supernatural danger, there was another. And yeah, he couldn’t really blame anyone for that because that was the Nemeton’s fault for drawing the things that go bump in the night to Beacon Hills in the first place. But it still sucked ass.

Life would be so much easier if he moved away.

 

When Stiles would finally have to opportunity to sleep (which was on the rare occasion when he didn’t have to pull an all nighter and take a few too many Adderall because a coven of witches had decided to fuck with this pack in particular) his dreams would be plagued with nightmares.

He had never had nightmares about the classic monster running after you with the whole however fast you run it’ll still catch up.

No, they were just reoccurring memories.

Mainly of when he was possessed by the Nogitsune.

Stiles still remembered every second of his possession, he remembered the enjoyment of the creature as it had wreaked havoc. As it had killed innocents, like Allison, and hurt his friends in ways that might never be able to be fixed. Though the worst part of it was that some sick, little twisted little part of him had enjoyed it too.

 

His councillor always told him not to think too much into things.

All stiles did was think. About everything.

And he knew that was his own downfall.

He just couldn’t switch off.

It was the exact reason why he was in this predicament now, precariously sat at the edge of the hospital’s roof with his feet dangling into nothingness.

Originally he had thought to come here to be in the open air to see if it would help clear his head of the incessant racing thoughts, but it had only made it worse.

He was good at that. Making things worse.

He was sorry, of course he was. Taking the easy way out is cheating, but life wasn’t fair, so it didn’t really matter.

He stood, perfectly calm, and looked up at the waning moon one last time.

 _All you’ve got to do is jump_.

So he did.

 

 

 _Ouch_ , was the first coherent thought that came to mind.

His whole body was aching, and his shoulders were strained in a painful position.

He was lying on something soft, which was weird, as even in his groggy state, he knew he shouldn’t be. His eyes cracked open to see what had happened. Above him was the starry night sky, the waning moon illuminating the rooftop he had been stood on moments ago.

Stiles attempted to sit up, only to find he was being held down. He looked down to see strong arms encircling his chest from behind, their grip so tight on him it was almost a struggle to breathe. A groan sounded behind him, and the arms loosened, allowing him to roll off of what he was lying on. Once on the cold, damp concrete he turned to see who had been holding him.

There, slowly and gingerly pulling himself into a sitting position was Derek.

Derek had saved him.

For once, Stiles didn’t know what to say.

They were both winded from the fall, and Stiles started to feel the cold seep into him as they sat there in the empty parking lot.

All he could do was stare at Derek, who had stumbled ungracefully to his feet. He held a hand out to Stiles, and after a moment’s pause, the younger man took it, allowing Derek to silently direct him towards his jeep.

 

 

That night Derek didn’t let him out of his sight.

It happened the next night, the one after, and every night onwards.

He never said a word; he lay in Stiles’ bed as a silent shadow, every night without fail, not pushing for anything, just keeping an eye on him.

 

It was over two weeks later that Stiles finally started talking about that day.

Derek held him close and carded his fingers through Stiles’ hair as he let it all out. And finally, as the last of his tears dried up, Stiles cuddled into Derek and he knew, without a doubt, that everything was going to be okay.


End file.
